Love You Forever
by Alexabee
Summary: The story of Katniss' timeless bond with her third child, inspired by the book Love You Forever by Robert Munsch. Rated M for non-violent character death. Keywords: Love You Forever, Peeta, Katniss, Everlark, pregnancy, motherhood, circle of life, post-epilogue Mockingjay, canon, one shot, bittersweet.


**Author's Note:** Two particular lines in this story were taken from a conversation I had with an old friend of mine. If she ever happens to find this and read it, that section is dedicated to her. The remainder of this story is based on a concept that I've been thinking about for months and months - mainly, what if Katniss and Peeta had a third child after the epilogue of Mockingjay, one the readers never knew about - and the structure of the story itself was inspired by Robert Munsch's acclaimed childrens' book, _Love You Forever. _Thank you to Soamazinghere for being my wonderful beta reader!

**Love You Forever**

_It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly._ – Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

_I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be._ – Love You Forever by Robert Munsch

_-1-_

Katniss fiercely loved her older children, there was no doubt about it. No one who'd seen them together could ever think differently.

But with her third and youngest, she shared a special bond.

Peeta hadn't even initiated it that time. It had been she who'd rolled over one night in their bed and placed her hand on his bicep, searching his tired eyes for confirmation. It had been she who'd wrapped her legs around his body and drawn him in, who'd taken his face between her hands and kissed him when the answer, as it always had been, was 'yes.'

Though she had initially been terrified at the thought of being a mother and so entirely responsible for the life of another human being – especially since she'd failed Prim and Rue and countless others in the past – Katniss had fallen completely in love with her firstborn from the moment the tiny, pink-skinned creature was first placed in her arms. And the second time she was pregnant, it had only taken the fluttering of her son within her for that same, undeniable love to overpower the worst of her fears.

But this time was different. She'd dreamed of this baby before he had even been conceived. She'd pictured carrying him in her belly, and then in her arms. She'd imagined how he'd grow; how quickly he'd learn to crawl, then walk, then run. And then he'd be running away from her on those chubby, dimpled little legs, giggling and wanting Mama to chase him, never knowing how the little person he was becoming made her so intensely proud and broke her heart all at the same time.

This baby was different. She knew he would come into the world and she'd look into his tiny face and it'd be like seeing an old friend.

This one she knew she loved before their story had even begun.

_-2-_

Being pregnant the first time had been confusing for Katniss. She was sure that she was supposed to feel something about the life growing inside her – excitement, awe, even frustration at how her swollen belly was getting in the way of everything from walking to sleeping – but aside from the paralyzing fear that washed over her each time the baby moved, she felt nothing.

Peeta took care of her as best he could, cooking her healthy meals and rubbing her back and legs on days when she could barely find the strength to get out of bed. Sometimes he even undressed and got into the shower with her to wash her hair when it seemed too monumental a chore for Katniss to do herself.

At night, he would reassure her that he was there for her, and that there were no longer any reapings to worry about. He reminded her of the strength she possessed, and of all the things they'd overcome together, and how he was sure she'd make a wonderful mother. And each morning he'd repeat these things and beg her to keep trying.

But more often than not, Katniss remained in bed. She knew Peeta's words were sincere, but for some reason, they just couldn't penetrate her heart.

One evening, he turned to her and asked if she still loved him.

"Of course I do," she'd answered, searching his face for any sign of an oncoming flashback. But all she saw was a deep sadness behind his blue eyes.

"Then I want you to get help from Dr. Aurelius," Peeta said. "Please. You're not okay. It's hurting me to see you like this, and I'm worried about the baby, too."

It was a little harsh, but it was just the motivation Katniss needed to seek help.

The next day, she called the doctor. His advice was simple – he told her to start by doing one nice thing for herself every day. It didn't have to be big. Just something basic and manageable that she could take comfort in.

Skeptically, Katniss chewed on a pencil and eventually drew up a short list of ideas under Dr. Aurelius' direction. Opening the curtains and windows on a sunny day. Curling up in freshly laundered bed sheets. Snipping some of the primrose buds from the bush at the front of the house and putting them in a mug on the kitchen table. Singing.

_Singing._

Katniss faintly recalled how she'd sung during her confinement following her trial in the Capitol. How the words and melodies had come from some place of defiance deep within her, some place unscathed by arenas and bombs and mining accidents and wars.

The songs had brought her back to herself. Singing was the one thing she knew she could do in her darkest of places.

And so she did. She also took hot baths and made herself eat toast and cheese and go for short walks outside, and on days where she just couldn't do any of those things, she let herself stay in her pajamas and told herself she'd try again the next day. But she would at least hum a little tune. That much she could do.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow,_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow,_

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes,_

_And when you awake, the sun will rise…_

After a few weeks, a strange thing started to happen – Katniss started to see all the small, enjoyable things around her, and these gave her even more reasons to get out of bed. And once she was up, she realized it felt good. And she didn't want to relapse, so she disciplined herself to keep up the new routine. What had initially started as a burdensome chore from Dr. Aurelius evolved into a predictable and reassuring pattern that helped Katniss manage her fears. Peeta's loving words suddenly felt real and had an impact, and she found herself actually able to respond to them.

Slowly, the color started returning to her days.

One night when the baby wouldn't stop kicking, Katniss found herself exhaustedly thinking, _I can't wait to get this kid out of me_. And then she laughed, realizing what it meant: she was actually _looking forward_ to the arrival of her child.

After her daughter was born, whenever she was fussy, Katniss sang to help soothe her. And she continued to hum songs to herself throughout her next pregnancy, hoping that the habit would keep her from falling into a paralyzing depression once again.

But this time, the third time, she caressed her belly and sang directly to the little one growing inside, no longer out of fear or sadness, but from a place of joy.

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here I'll guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

_-3-_

Ayla had always been willful.

_Too much like me,_ Katniss remembered thinking to herself during the agonizingly long labor, when her daughter seemed determined to stay put in the home she'd had for the past nine months. _Stubborn and strong-willed._

This only became more evident as the baby grew into a toddler whose favorite thing to do was fingerpaint the walls with blackberry jam, unroll all the toilet paper in the house, and exercise her newfound love of the word _no._

Some days, Ayla honestly made Katniss want to rip her own hair out.

But her daughter also possessed a sort of grace and creativity that continually surprised her and left her in awe – surely these were not qualities inherited from her. Ayla was practically dancing from the time she could walk; skipping and twirling through the house and talking to herself as she played, coming up with such fantastic stories and imaginary creatures that even on the worst days, when Katniss was tired and grumpy and still had messes to clean up and meals to cook, she couldn't help but laugh aloud at her clever little girl. Everything was magical to Ayla, and her enchanted view of the world was contagious.

And there was something else, something about her daughter's mannerisms that sometimes gave Katniss a brief glimpse of Prim. Maybe it was the way she bent down with gently cupped hands to coax over every stray cat that crossed her path, or the way she devotedly set Peeta's shoes by the front door each night before bed, _so Daddy won't lose them in the dark because he wakes up before the sun does._

Ayla was Katniss' greatest struggle, but also the source of her redemption. One night, while they were nestled on the couch together, her little voice piped up, unprovoked, and declared, "Mama, I need you."

Katniss wanted to promise that she'd always be there for her girl, that she'd always keep her safe. But she'd made that promise before, and if she'd learned anything over the years, it's that there are some things we just don't have the power to control. And she wouldn't make Ayla a promise she couldn't keep.

So instead she answered, "I need you too, Baby," and drew her precious daughter even closer.

Sage, on the other hand, had the sweet and patient disposition of his father, as well as the same halo of blonde hair. By the time he was two, he could stand beside Peeta at the kitchen counter for the better part of an hour, happily _pat-patting_ at a little lump of scrap dough for entertainment. On rainy days, he'd toddle over to his mother carrying a picture book nearly as big as himself, then climb up on her lap and tuck his head under her chin as she began to read. Katniss buried her face in her son's curls and breathed in his scent, relishing those peaceful moments with her baby boy. But as Sage grew, it became clear that he preferred 'helping' his father at the bakery above any other activity. Peeta even made him a little straw broom so they could sweep up the floor together at the end of the day.

Once Sage started stringing words together, Katniss also realized that her son possessed the ability to make observations that were wise beyond his years. He had a keen emotional intuitiveness and was able to tell immediately when someone was having a rough day.

"What wrong, daddy?" he would ask, whenever his father came down the stairs, white-faced and shaken from another flashback. "What wrong?"

Peeta would just gather his son up in his arms and hold him tightly until he could form words once more.

While his sister's head was always up in the clouds, Sage was down-to-earth and practical. Privately, Katniss knew her son had the nature to become an excellent hunter. But she was determined to let her children enjoy the sort of carefree childhood she'd never had the opportunity to experience, so she'd put her bow aside years ago and vowed not to bring it out again for a long time.

One day she'd have to teach Sage and Ayla about the past, about the reapings and the war, about hunting – _killing_ – in order to survive.

One day. But not any day soon.

It was this thought that she was dwelling on as they all walked through the meadow together one summer evening. Ayla was far ahead, leaping through the long, yellow grasses alive with the hum of crickets. Sage was just behind, struggling to keep up. Katniss and Peeta slowly walked side by side, watching their children frolic, their shoulders brushing with each step.

"Alright?" Peeta asked when his wife paused to rest in the shade of a tree.

"Fine," Katniss murmured, draping her hand over her rounded belly. "It's just hot."

_Daddy, daddy, daddy!_ shouted excited little voices in the distance. _Daddy, come look!_

Once Peeta had gone ahead, Katniss sat down and leaned back against the rough base of the tree trunk. She may not have wanted to tell her older children that the meadow they played in was a mass grave, but she had a feeling that she couldn't keep a secret from the child who was still inside her. Ayla and Sage had already grown into themselves as individuals – a mixture of Peeta and herself and something uniquely each their own. But she and this baby were still one, after all. He felt all her joys and sorrows.

"All you need to know, _Little Love,_" she said softly, plucking a puffy white dandelion from the grass beside her, "is that this used to be a place of bones and ashes. But life will always start over. Things can always be good again."

And with that, she shook the flower's seeds into the wind.

_-4-_

No one ever told her that pregnancy could be so lonely.

In the early months, Katniss had been unable to stand the smell of cooked meat or onions. While Peeta and the kids ate dinner together, she'd be upstairs, hiding in the bedroom, dishtowels jammed around the base of the door in an attempt to block out the odors that exacerbated her nausea. Then, late at night, she'd be kept awake by trips to the bathroom and intense cravings for things like fried eggs, ripe pears, or warm, gooey cinnamon buns, fresh out of the oven.

"This is just between you and me," she'd joked with her baby belly one night when she'd finally given in, padding silently down to the kitchen to indulge in a midnight snack. It seemed like she never ate or slept at the same time as the rest of her family anymore. Sometimes her only company was the child growing within her.

The nausea tapered off as her pregnancy progressed, but in the final weeks it was replaced with other discomforts that kept her from participating in her usual activities. Katniss missed being able to take deep breaths. Her ankles would swell to three times their size if she didn't put her feet up, and even her shoes had joined the ranks of clothing that no longer fit, making it difficult for her to leave the house.

Understandably, she felt a little jealous of Peeta when she saw him playing with the kids. They wrestled on the floor together and chased each other around as she watched from the sidelines, feeling left out. But as soon as Peeta lay down beside her in their bed and placed both hands on her abdomen, Katniss realized something that made those feelings vanish.

"Has he been moving a lot?" Peeta asked.

"Oh yeah. He always ramps it up when I'm trying to sleep."

Unlike Peeta, she was familiar with every little kick and hiccup that occurred inside her body, day and night. And she knew that the baby – who lived with her warmth and her voice and the steady drumming of her heartbeat – was intimately familiar with her rhythms, too.

But that was not a closeness that Peeta would ever have the chance to experience. After all, these nine months together were ones that she, and only she, could ever share with their child.

As her husband stroked and kissed and spoke to her belly, it occurred to Katniss that perhaps fathers found pregnancy lonely sometimes, too.

So she resolved to cherish the last fleeting moments of closeness with her soon-to-be-born child, all the while looking forward to the day when he would finally arrive and get to meet his father. She wondered what combination of herself and Peeta her youngest would inherit – dark chestnut curls? Fair skin and grey eyes? Would he overflow with mirth and energy like Ayla, or patiently ask for story after story, like Sage?

Katniss was sure he'd have a little bit of all those characteristics, and yet he'd also be totally different from anything she could dream of. She could see her youngest as a chubby newborn, sleeping on Peeta's bare chest and being tenderly cradled by his father's strong, protective arms. She imaged her little one growing into a toddler and pointing inquisitively to all the things in the garden as she gave them names. _Bumblebee. Primrose. Pinecone. Haymitch's goose._ She saw herself tucking his shirt into his little corduroy pants as he got ready for his first day of school, and she envisioned the afternoon, years later, when he would come home with flour in his hair after helping his father lift and stack the heaviest bags at the bakery.

But when Katniss tried to imagine who the baby inside her would become as a young man, her mind went blank. She couldn't see that far ahead.

"How've you been feeling tonight?" Peeta asked, interrupting her reverie. He'd shifted his attention from her belly to her face and was sweetly tucking a lock of her hair back behind her ear.

"Huge," she answered. "It's like I'm pregnant or something."

"Don't worry. I think that's what was supposed to happen," Peeta grinned mischievously. Then he leaned in to give her a slow, gentle kiss.

"It won't be much longer now," she whispered when their lips parted, as if it was a secret that only they truly understood.

Eyes shining, Peeta reached over to the bedside table and turned off the light.

It was only when he started to kiss her bare shoulder and slide his hands firmly over the curves of her body that Katniss realized she already knew exactly what kind of man her baby would someday grow to be.

_-5-_

The child who'd been the source of so little anxiety during her pregnancy certainly made up for it during his delivery.

After days of seemingly no progress whatsoever, the newest Mellark finally made his entrance into the world weighing just over six pounds and sporting a shock of dark hair. Katniss was deliriously exhausted from the most difficult and lengthy labor she'd endured, but her heart instantly flooded with joy at the sound of her baby's first thin cry. Seconds later, the tiny bundle was placed against her breast. The midwife was still busying herself worrying about something, and it registered somewhere in Katniss' mind that there was much more blood than usual, but she was too tired and too happy to give it much concern.

Her baby was fine. He was healthy and perfect. Absolutely _perfect._ She finally had him in her arms. How could there be anything to worry about in the world right now, at a time like this?

Nothing mattered but _this._

She gazed down at the tiny person in her arms, already feeling so far away from him.

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here I'll guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

The midwife was saying something, and now Peeta was saying something too, but she was too happy, too wrapped up in her newest child to hear either of them. She felt as if she was floating somewhere far above them all.

_Katniss?_ came Peeta's panicked voice, echoing inside her head. _Katniss?_

Down what seemed like a long tunnel, she could see his hand gripping her arm. Her arms around her baby. Her baby's wet, unfocused eyes, looking up and searching her face. The newborn recognized her warmth, her scent, her heartbeat. So close, yet so far.

Motherhood was full of bittersweet moments like this, thought Katniss drowsily – it was like a long, slow _I love you_ mixed with a long, slow _goodbye._

She was so, so tired. Her eyelids were heavy. She felt as though she had lived a thousand lifetimes with her baby in her arms; Her Peeta, her boy and her girl at her side. Nothing had been left unfinished.

When death came, it took her away quietly and without pain, like a light bulb dimming and then flickering out.

_- Epilogue -_

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow,_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow..._

The lyrics to the old lullaby are etched on her gravestone.

I never knew my mother. She died on the same day that I was born. But every October, on my birthday, I come out to the edge of the forest where Dad buried her next to the memorial she'd made for her sister, Primrose, and I run my fingers over those words.

They're just so... _familiar._

Maybe it's because dad always said she had the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard – a voice that made the birds stop and listen. Or maybe it's because I've heard so many stories about her from my older brother and sister. Or maybe it's just because I've inexplicably known all the words to the meadow song for as long as I can remember.

But when I look at those lyrics, it's as if my mother is still here, still singing to me. I can't explain it. It just feels like home.

I know it's impossible, but I swear I remember her. I remember the way her skin smelled and the way she held me tight and the sound of her laughter. Dad says she loved me and wanted me more than anything, and I hope that in the few short moments we had together, she knows I loved her too.

When I close my eyes, I can't quite see her face, but I can feel her presence. And I swear, when I hear those lyrics, I get this feeling like she's still here and has never missed a single day of my life.

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

I rise up from the spot where I'm kneeling and brush the dried leaves off the knees of my pants. Dad and Ayla and Sage and I will spend this afternoon together, as we do every year, quietly looking through the memory book.

But I don't need a book to remember.

I still hear her singing.


End file.
